Drue, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1624 [licensed for stage, Jan 2] (Annals) history · Prince Palatine's (Palsgrave's) Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.72 · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
How now my Lord, oh I am out of breath, In coming to you, yet I hope my haste, Is little for your purpose, they are coming, Stand on your guard, for this way they must pass, there's Bertie, Cranwell, Sands, with them the Duchess, 'twas well done Fox, there's thy reward, stand close, Or, now, or never, let us show our care, stand, who goes there? Some funeral it seems. It may be some device procured by them, So to escape the danger of our watch, stand. I can assure your Lordship, 'tis not so, This is the body of young Vandermast, Whose brother dwelling some four leagues from hence, Although he died here, yet will have him buried, Whereas his Ancestors are all entombed, And for that cause, hath sent his servants for him. Is it no otherwise. No mighty Prince, And would to heaven it had not been so now: Pass then, pass, it is not you we look for. What was this Vandermast, a Citizen? No my good Lord, he was a Soldier, A proper Gentleman, and one had served The Emperor, and others in their wars, Yet was ordained, to end his days at home. A thing no more than usual, but how now, What's here, another funeral? nay then It is a hazard, we are all deluded. My thoughts began to prophesy as much, Speak, are not you the parties that even now Came this way, with a mourning funeral. Not we my Lord, this is the first appearance, We made this evening. What have you there concealed. Nothing my Lord, but a dead body Coffined, The brother of our M. late deceased. ay, this is Vandermast, the other past, Upon my life, was Barty, and the Duchess. They were unwilling to look up methought. And he that spoke, spoke with a feigned voice. 'twas they, 'twas they, oh, I could tear my hair, To think we were so grossly overseen. I said as much, come let us follow them, Send horsemen out, to every quarter straight, My Lord of Brunswick. You need not bid me ride, This oversight, hath clapped wings to my thoughts. Now for some pretty policy again, To lead them forth the way, until the Duchess, May reach Polonia, and deserve the prize, Fox play thy part, some stratagem devise. Where sits the wind, no news from Germany? If those malicious fugitives be ta'en, Our officers I fear, neglect their charge, Our Captain deals but coldly with the States. I dreamed my Lord, that Bertie and the Duchess, Were both advanced upon a regal throne, And had their temples wreathed with glittering gold. That throne do I interpret, is the stage Of horrid death, these wreathes of Gold, bright flames, That shall not only circle in their brows, But wind about their bodies, till they waste, And be converted to a heap of ashes, methinks this work of ours goes slowly forward, The air of England freezeth for defect Of burning Meteors, to keep it warm.
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Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
How now my Lord, oh I am out of breath, In comming to you, yet I hope my hast, Is little for your purpose, they are comming, Stand on your guard, for this way they must passe, Ther's Bertie, Cranwell, Sands, with them the Dutches, Twas well done Fox, there's thy reward, stand clo Or, now, or never, let vs shew our care, stand, who gther Some funerall it seemes. It may be some device procured by them, So to escape the danger of our watch, stand. I can assure your Lordship, tis not so, This is the body of young Vandermast, Whose brother dwelling some foure leagues from hence, Although he died heere, yet will haue him buried, Whereas his Ancestors are all intomb'd, And for that cause, hath sent his servants for him. Is it no otherwise. No mighty Prince, And would to heaven it had not bin so now: Passe then, passe, it is not you we looke for. What was this Vandermast, a Cittizen? No my good Lord, he was a Souldier, A proper Gentleman, and one had served The Emperour, and others in their warres, Yet was ordain'd, to end his dayes at home. A thing no more then vsuall, but how now, Whats here, an other funerall? nay then It is a hazzard, we are all deluded. My thoughts began to prophecie as much, Speake, are not you the parties that even now Came this way, with a mourning funerall. Not we my Lord, this is the first appearance, We made this evening. What haue you there conceal'd. Nothing my Lord, but a dead body Coffin'd, The brother of our M. late deceast. I, this is Vandermast, the other past, Vpon my life, was Barty, and the Dutches. They were vnwilling to looke vp me thought. And he that spake, spake with a fained voice. Twas they, twas they, oh, I could teare my haire, To thinke we were so grossely overseene. I said as much, come let vs follow them, Send horsemen out, to every quarter straight, My Lord of Brunswick. You need not bid me ride, This oversight, hath clapt wings to my thoughts. Now for some pretty policy againe, To lead them forth the way, vntill the Dutches, May reach Polonia, and deserue the prize, Fox play thy part, some stratagem devise. Wher sits the winde, no newes from German If those malitious fugitiues be tayne, Our officers I feare, neglect their charge, Our Captaine deales but coldly with the States. I dreamt my Lord, that Bertie and the Dutches▪ Were both advanc't vpon a regall throne, And had their temples wreath'd with glittering gold. That throne doe I interpret, is the stage Of horrid death, these wreathes of Gold, bright flames, That shall not onely circle in their browes, But wind about their bodies, till they waste, And be converted to a heape of ashes, Me thinks this worke of ours goes slowly forward, The ayre of England freezeth for defect Of burning Meteors, to keepe it warme.